


Testing the Waters

by quantumlevitation



Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: F/M, Omorashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:17:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2687411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumlevitation/pseuds/quantumlevitation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From Tumblr: [Kink prompt: Luteces. Heading home from a long party, both having had a lot to drink. They get onto a gondola, but to their dismay it breaks half way between the stations. No ETA when it's fixed]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Testing the Waters

There was more than a bit of a stagger in the walk of both Lutece twins as they made their way to the gondola that would take them back to Emporia. Rosalind could not quite remember the name of the visiting dignitary in whose honor the ball had been held - a small, weaselly man who brushed her breasts with the back of his hand while dancing - owing to the several glasses of excellent wine that had been served with dinner. 

The fish had been lovely, she thought, and paired perfectly with whatever the white wine was, and there had been a soup course, and some sort of sweet dessert offering...

She tried to focus her eyes on Robert’s face, which was slack and sweated, despite the cool evening. He seemed to be having trouble focusing on her as well, and had to grasp the railing of the gondola as he helped, and came perilously close to hindered, her step over the gap. They fell onto the bench together as the gondola shuddered and started its trip over the rails.

About halfway across, the machinery’s high whine stalled to a murmur, and the automatic braking system engaged, swinging the gondola back and forth. Rosalind opened her eyes from where she had been dozing and looked around.

“Muss be broken. Call help, Rosa,” Robert gestured vaguely towards the panel.

Rosalind gathered her skirts around her and stood up, swaying her way towards the call button, and took a deep breath so as not to diminish her authority with inebriation.

“The gondola to Emporia has stopped. What seems to be the problem?”

The radio crackled to life. “We’ll get a crew out there as fast as we can, but we’re short-staffed. It might be a while. Many apologies, ma’am.”

She turned around to see Robert looking at her, more sober than he had been. “Broken?”

She sat down next to him. “That would seem to be the case.”

He ran his hands over his legs and arched forward. “Well then. I probably should’ve used the restroom before I left.”

Rosalind gives him a sidelong look with lidded eyes. “Well, I’m sure we won’t be here long. Best to see if we can make it back to land.”

“I can go off the side, sister, unlike you.”

A vision of herself tumbling off the edge, dress hiked up around her hips, added a brief moment of vertigo to her dizziness. “No, I don’t think I’ll do that.”

“However, for…entertainment purposes…I’ll keep you company. In fact, why don’t we make it a friendly competition? Whoever loses control first…what would you like to wager?”

Rosalind thought for a moment, then said, “A full week of cooking all of the meals for both of us.”

He reeled over to her, pulling her chin up for a sloppy kiss. “That is a considerable prize, sister, in light of the fact that I’ve won every single one of these contests so far.”

“Ah, but you had several more glasses of wine than I did, I noticed.”

A moment of pain passed over Robert’s face. “Don’t remind me.”

She looked him in the eye. “Which did you prefer more? The reds, or the whites? You had at least two glasses of that dessert wine at the end as well, but you always did have a sweet tooth.”

Robert takes a deep breath. “Why don’t we sit down for a while? Rest our feet.”

They sit down in their previous places on the bench with more shifting of their weight and adjusting of their clothing than an observer might have thought necessary. The pressure was starting to build for Rosalind, and she began to find it difficult to think of anything but the urge to relieve herself. The lack of anything of interest in their current situation was not helping. 

Robert’s face was impassive, but his hand had stolen over to the front of his trousers, where he was experimenting with different placements to try to relieve the tension.

“What are the precise conditions of this competition, Rosalind?”

“What do you mean?”

“Does any amount of moisture count as a loss, or is it only if we soak ourselves?”

“I would say that a loss counts as rendering oneself unfit for polite company. If another person would feel uncomfortable with your appearance, then you have lost. Does that sound fair?"

“Fair eno—“

The gondola jerked forward, throwing Rosalind onto Robert, then came to an abrupt halt. Both twins threw their arms out for balance, so that they did not go sprawling on the floorboards.

A voice came over the radio, “Sorry about that. Still working on it. I think we’re going to have to send someone out on a skyhook in a little bit. We need to get the power shut down, though.”

Rosalind looked at Robert with a spark in her eyes. She sat up off of his lap, where a spurt had soaked through the front of his dark trousers. 

He looked at her. “Doesn’t count. Extenuating circumstances.”

“And yet, it contradicts the rules of the competition, does it not? Would you appear before Father Comstock like this?”

Robert grins. “You never know. Some of those religious type are broader-minded than you’d expect, in private.”

Rosalind hits him in the shoulder, then bites her lip and pushes her hand between her legs, falling silent.

Robert turns to her and whispers in her ear that they should go in the cabin. Once there, with the door pulled shut, he slides his hand up her skirt. “Let’s see how you did with our little jolt there.” He has just started his exploration of her damp chemise when she pushes him away and pulls her skirt back down. 

“Robert! Someone could be watching.”

“I don’t think they could see in. It’s pretty dark.”

She shrugs and arches her back with the pleasure of his fingers parting her wet lips, rubbing her. The gondola sways in the wind, its wooden beams creaking.

He slows, stops. His hand snakes up under her skirts and presses down on her swollen bladder. She hisses in panic as another, much larger section of her undergarments are soaked. She stands, tries to look at the back of her skirt in the low light. There is a slight wet spot, but nothing that couldn't be explained away.

She is pacing now, trying her hardest not to think of letting go. Appearances must be maintained, after all, she tells herself, though the thought is little comfort. Robert is sitting on the floor with his eyes closed, repeating something to himself that she cannot hear. Just a little bit, she thinks. No one will notice if I just let out a little bit--

The lights in the gondola snap on, and amid a cacophony of squeaks they start moving and, with a slight bump, the gondola docks. They climb over the railing and start the walk home. 

They are in the darkness of the walkway under the bridge when Robert bends forward, groaning as the wetness in the front of his pants spreads. She is close enough to hear him whispering "I can't--oh God--I can't wait any more. That's enough. I can't do it. I've lost. I've lost." He shudders with pleasure as the wetness runs down his legs and drips on the cobblestones. 

When he is done, they hurry the last few yards to their home, and slam the door behind them. Robert's cock is standing out in his soaked pants, and he opens them up, sliding to the floor. Rosalind steps over his legs and, a strangled gasp escaping her throat, gives in, the hot stream gushing down over Robert's skin and clothes. She has not finished before she slides down onto him, the muscles of her thighs tight around his legs, finding a gentle rhythm with the sopping wet cloth between them and the pleasure building until they are both finished, Rosalind's head resting on Robert's shoulder, Robert breathing hard and the sleep stealing into his eyes. 

They strip down and wipe off and slide under the covers, warmth to warmth, skin to skin, and their hearts (as the old songs say, and as they have confirmed with some testing) beating as if one.


End file.
